Disclaimer: Don't own House.
A/N: Heeeeeey, guys. So, thanks a lot to those of you who have reviewed—it really brightens my day. Reviews have dropped off a wee bit, and I guess I'm wondering if it's because people don't like where it's going, or because we've all been on vacation, or something… Let me know you're still reading, people!
House stared bemusedly at Cameron as she downed the rest of her beer, a mere five minutes after they'd sat down in a booth at a bar near campus. Cameron had shot House a look when she noticed a larger-than-normal number of coeds—especially the blonde, big-breasted type—but he had merely shrugged and shot her an enigmatic smile in return.
"Is this really the best bar you could come up with?" Cameron asked, taking a deep breath and wiping her mouth in a somewhat unladylike manner. She set her glass down with a loud clunk, and watched as it rocked from side to side before settling. House's hand quickly shot to his mouth as he attempted to cover his smile. "You know, if you're just trying to emphasize how much younger I am, or how blondes are dumb and slutty, then you know what, House? You know what?"
"Feeling a little defensive tonight, Dr. Cameron?" He cradled his glass of Scotch in both hands, and raised an eyebrow. "Gotta tell you: it's not that sexy."
"You know, you're a hypocrite," she announced, motioning to the waiter for another beer.
"Cameron, you really haven't had that much to drink, have you?"
"You told me that I couldn't sit around and feel sorry for myself, but what do you do? You pop pills, drink too much, push away anyone who ever even remotely gives a crap for you…"
"Did you pre-game?" House interrupted.
"What are you doing with your life if not feeling sorry for yourself? Gotta tell you: it's not that sexy. I think that you need to get over yourself too, House. Yeah, I get it: life has sucked for you so far. A bum leg, a bitch of an ex-girlfriend, and a complete jerk for a father? House, I get it." She reached across the table and placed a strong hand on his wrist. The waiter placed her second beer down on the table, and, quickly noting the intense staring contest between the two, high-tailed it out of there. "I have a martyr complex, right? I married a dying man because I wanted to be needed, remember? I want you because you're damaged, right? House, I'm just as damaged as you are. I mean, we're all damaged in some way, but you and me? We make it an art. So now that we've established that we both feel sorry for ourselves because we got the short end of the stick in life, let's enjoy our drinks. Let's start over." Without waiting for any acknowledgement from House, Cameron picked up her pint of beer and started chugging. House couldn't hide his shock as she finished her second beer in a matter of seconds. After she set down her glass, she gazed at her former boss across the table. "Oh, I'm so going to regret that in a few minutes."
"Which part? The beer or the speech?" House inquired nonchalantly, downing his own Scotch.
"I'm pretty sure all of it." Cameron groaned and placed her head down on the table. After a moment, she sat straight up and covered her face with both hands. "I just don't know what to do with you." House sighed and ran a quick hand through his hair, endeavoring to look anywhere in the bar except Cameron.
"You see, the thing is…" He trailed off and stared at his hands, both of which were quickly becoming a tangled mess on his lap. "Wilson is my best friend. He would tell you he's my only friend, and maybe he's not too far off, but the truth is he's my best friend. One of the reasons why he is my best friend is quite simple, really: he gives me perspective." Again, he sighed. "Yeah, Cameron, we're damaged, and part," he said, raising his eyebrows, "part of it is because we've had some… bad luck. But the truth is we could have had it worse." Cameron could see how painful this was for House—not necessarily because it was difficult to talk about, but rather because it was difficult to talk about it with her. "My point yesterday was, and still is, this: you need to grow up. You have…improved over the past three and a half years. You're your own person. But you still need to grow up. You have to stop dating guys who aren't right for you, for starters," he shot her a significant look, "and you have to find what makes you happy. You have to work for it, Cameron, and finding work that you really want to do would be a great place to start."
"What about you?"
"What about me?"
"What makes you happy? Who makes you happy?" Cameron looked miserable in this particular moment, and again House was reminded of how beautiful she looked when draped in the gentle folds of melancholy. It took a moment to find his voice once more.
"I like my work, and I like my music. I suppose I enjoy hanging out with Wilson, though if you ever tell him I said that I will do everything in my power to make your life miserable." He pointed a threatening finger at her, but then balled his hand into a fist and brought it down on the table. "My life is fine as it is."
"Liar," Cameron accused quietly, giving House a sad smile. "You're a terrible liar. Well, when you care, anyway."
"Everybody lies," he replied. "Everybody lies." There was a long pause at the two looked down at their respective empty glasses.
"Why do I always screw this up?" She started to laugh. It began with a small chuckle, which she immediately tried to suppress with a hand over her mouth. But before she knew it, she was clutching her sides with tears rolling down her cheeks. "Why do I always do this?"
"I really wish I knew," House responded, frowning deeply whenever she wasn't looking his way. "I really, really wish I knew," he mumbled under his breath.
"So, what, are you my Wilson now? Are you going to give me my much needed perspective on life?" Cameron asked, smearing her tears across her cheek. There was a long pause as House contemplated just how to answer that question.
"I could be," he said, finally looking her in the eye. "And I could."
"Friends, then?" she asked, her voice barely carrying over the sounds of the clacking pool balls and the flirtatious laughter of the young university students. For a moment, she allowed her self to glance at those students, reminded of all the superficial fun she never had while she was nursing a dying husband.
"Yeah, I think we can manage that," House agreed, surprisingly serious. They both nodded, and then began to feel awkward once more.
House, ever the gallant gentleman, walked a listless Cameron to the door. He was afraid that he'd finally broken her; that'd never been his real intention. She opened her door without saying a thing to him, and when she finally entered her apartment, she turned around and leaned on her doorframe.
"Good night, House," she whispered, bravely attempting a smile. When House only nodded in return, Cameron began to shut the door.
"Wait, Cameron," House said, a hint of pleading entering his voice. She waited, staring at the man in front of her—the man who still wouldn't, or couldn't, tell her how he felt. Unconsciously, she began to prepare herself to be disappointed. "Uh, good night. I'll, uh, see you tomorrow or something."
"Yeah, tomorrow," she agreed, unable to keep the disappointment from her voice. House watched the door shut with a decisive click. He raised a hand to knock, ready to tell her everything that he wanted to tell her. Yet he couldn't bring himself to move his hand. It was such a simple movement, and he just couldn't do it. Sighing, he unfurled his fingers and placed his moist palm softly against the door, followed closely by his forehead.
"I'm sorry," he whispered, unable to help himself. He would never know that Cameron mirrored his position on the other side of the door, silent tears cascading down her cheeks.
The next day Cameron got up early and called Cuddy's office to make an appointment with the Dean of Medicine. Though her eyes were still puffy from her therapeutic crying spells throughout the night, she appeared every inch the professional woman as she stood in front of Cuddy's office at two-fifty sharp.
"Cameron, come in," Cuddy ordered, her brusque words undermined by the warm smile she gave the younger woman. "What can I do for you?" she asked, watching Cameron calmly shutting the office door.
"Foreman told me about your various offers to lure him back to Princeton, and also told me about his various reasons for rejecting them. I thought I understood them, and maybe I did at that moment, but the truth is now I think he's crazy. I'm in the ER, working grueling shifts and I don't feel half of the accomplishment I did while working in Diagnostics. I'm not excited when I get up for work in the morning, and the truth is that I think I do my job well, but I think I did better in Diagnostics. I think I still could do well in Diagnostics, but there's always House to deal with."
"Tell me about it," Cuddy mumbled, awkwardly shifting a few files on her desk for no discernable reason.
"Foreman told me you gave him the option of running his own Diagnostics team. He told me it would have been secondary to House's team, but it would have been his own team to run. I want that job, Dr. Cuddy. While I worked for House, I did the majority of his paperwork and I covered most of his administrative duties, so I'd be more than able to deal with that aspect of the job. Three years ago, I would not have been prepared for a leadership position, but I think I'm ready, and I think I can build a team and work in an environment that doesn't rely on despotism. Dr. Chase would be a crucial component, and I would want him to be Foreman's equivalent on my team—a second in command, so to speak. Dr. House put forty fellowship candidates through the paces, so I think I have a good idea of who to hire, if they'd be willing to work for me."
"Have you talked to either House, Foreman, or, for that matter, Chase about this?" Cuddy asked, leaning back in her seat. She was intrigued, that much was certain.
"Uh, not quite, but I have reason to believe that Dr. Chase may be willing to switch to this job." Cameron had to remind herself not to wring her hands.
"One that trumps the fact that he's your ex-boyfriend?" Though Cuddy's intention was to throw Cameron off her game by displaying her seemingly omniscient control on the hospital's grapevine, Cameron remained unruffled.
"I think so. Dr. Chase and I are professionals, if that's what you're worried about. Besides, both he and I would be much more willing to appear at hospital fundraising events as well as meet with potential donors. When we were simply House's fellows that would not have meant as much, but as leaders…"
"You've made your point, Dr. Cameron," Cuddy interrupted, waving a hand. For a moment, the Dean of Medicine façade dropped and Cameron got a good look at the fatigue wrought on the older woman's features. "The board recognized Dr. Foreman's potential as a leader, a doctor, and, more importantly, as a possible successor to House's position. I'm not one hundred percent that they'll see the same in you. No offense meant by that, of course, but…"
"I'm a woman. A woman who blackmailed her boss into going out on a date, and openly dated her colleague. I understand, but I'm willing to take my case to them personally if they'll give me the chance. If you'll give me the chance," she amended. "You know I can do this." Cuddy sighed and gave Cameron a long look.
"It's funny, actually, because I would never have thought you could until this very moment. But the honest truth is that a second team would take on more cases, and therefore bring in more money, which would not only make the board happy, but would also get them off my back about House's fiscal uselessness." Cuddy stood up. "Okay, we have a board meeting tomorrow. I'll amend the agenda to include you. Be ready to go at three, and we'll call on you if we need you."
"Thank you, Dr. Cuddy. I promise I won't let you down." Cameron couldn't help her glowing grin. Maybe things were turning around…
"Oh, you better not, because I will not hesitate to fire you and disband your team. Make sure you talk to Dr. Chase about this. I don't want to tell the board we have to look for a replacement in surgery if we don't need to."
"Okay, I will," Cameron promised, bobbing her head up and down several times. She turned to leave.
"Oh, and, Dr. Cameron? What will you do if you don't get this job?"
"If I don't get the job, I'll leave Princeton." Cuddy looked up from the board meeting agenda, her eyebrows raised in surprise.
"Well, I'd hate to see that happen, so let's do our best to get this off the ground, okay?" It wasn't a suggestion.
"Sounds good," Cameron agreed, leaving the office without saying another word. When she was outside in the lobby, she allowed herself a deep breath before she left to find Chase. There was no time to lose. In her haste, however, she missed the curious glance of House in the clinic. He watched her until she was out of sight, doing his best to ignore the slightly empty feeling in the pit of his stomach when the elevator doors closed on her determined face. Frowning, House turned to look into Cuddy's office. Something was going on.
The next day, Wilson checked his email, printed out the amended agenda and quickly made his way to House's office while the ink was still drying.
"House, can I talk to you?" he asked, throwing open the door to the conference room. Five pairs of eyes turned to glance at him, but he was only interested in the wintry blue one that belonged to his friend. House threw the black marker he was holding to Foreman, and stepped into his office with Wilson.
"What'd I do now?" House whined, reaching for his PSP.
"Take a look at this," Wilson ordered, slamming the agenda down on House's desk. Intrigued, House leaned forward, keeping his eyes on Wilson.
"What is it?"
"Just read it, House." Surprisingly House did so without the usual snarky comment. But to Wilson's complete shock, when he reached the last item on the agenda, House smiled. He smiled. "Wait, what's wrong with you?"
"Do you think this is a bad thing, Wilson?" House queried, leaning back in his chair once more and looking very much like the cat that ate the canary.
"No, as a matter of fact I think it is a fantastic thing. I think that Cameron actually could do better than run a team that would be, theoretically, under yours. But I was… I don't know, I was expecting you to start throwing things or march to Cuddy's office and… You're not mad? Are you happy? Indifferent?"
"I think that if it goes through, I'll be golden. Cameron will take every case she possibly can because she won't want to say no, and she'll bring in significantly more money to the department. I'm sure she alsowon't say no to Cuddy and will turn up at every single fundraiser and donor lunch possible, and she will charm away. That, my dear Wilson, will give me the freedom to do whatever the Hell I feel like."
"Or it could just emphasize how useless you really are," Wilson suggested.
"Not if I get to diagnose the occasional newsworthy case, and get the hospital's name in the paper," House countered, standing up and reaching for his cane. When he reached for the door leading to the conference room, Wilson stopped him.
"If I didn't know any better, I'd say that you planned this." House paused, keeping his back to his friend.
"You know, in a way I did. If it'd gone completely according to plan, though, there would have been more explosions and scantily clad women." He smirked as he pushed open the door.
"I'm guessing you didn't read the part about Chase," Wilson called out, feigning casualness. He crossed his arms over his chest and absently tapped a finger against his chin. House stopped dead in his tracks, quickly pulling the door closed. "He'd be the Foreman to your Cameron. I wonder if it'll be awkward for them to be working together, you know, since they broke up. Or maybe they'll resolve their differences; they'll certainly be spending enough time together." House couldn't help it—he turned around to face Wilson, jealousy blazing in his eyes. When he noticed Wilson's smug look, he took a deep breath and let the jealousy seep from his eyes and settle into a sick knot in his stomach.
"You know that won't happen Wilson, but what would I care? They deserve each other, don't they? All I want is for them to take some pressure off of me."
"Keep telling yourself that, House. Someday it may even be true."
"You're really obnoxious sometimes, you know that?"
"It's why we get along so well." House pursed his lips to suppress a smile.
"Jimmy, work your magic and get Cameron her job," he ordered. Wilson's smile was wiped off of his face and he nodded solemnly, clearly taking House's command to heart.
"I'll do my best," he promised. House nodded, satisfied.
"Let me know what happens." Without looking back, he opened to the door and walked into the conference.
"Yeah, I will," Wilson whispered, his eyes narrowing as he watched his friend. He saw the moment that House put on the façade; he waited for the moment that he became an entirely different person.
A few hours later House sat in his darkened office, feeling too lazy to even flip on his desk light. When he saw Wilson standing at the door, he sat straight up in his chair. Wilson only opened the door far enough to put his head inside the office.
"It's a go, House."
"Good," House replied, sounding as if Wilson had simply told him he was going home for the night. Wilson hesitated for a second, waiting to see if House would say something more, but when his friend didn't move or speak, Wilson closed the door softly behind him. When Wilson was out of sight, House smiled.
Good girl, he thought. This'll certainly shake things up a bit… Then he frowned.